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Someone Else’s Dirt

She stepped across the threshold
Into a land of laundry mountains and
Cat-hair grass
Dishes piled in jagged rocks at the edge
Of a sea of soapy water gone cold
And unfamiliar odors which warred against her senses

She tried not to notice the fresh cut lawn
Creeping in the back door
Or the canopy of webs with polka-dot flies
Which hung gracefully over every window
But the mildew vines growing up the shower curtain
Were just too much.

It wasn’t that the house was dirtier,
It was just someone else’s dirt.

For today’s prompt, write a poem from the perspective of a person who either works at and/or visits a place you like to visit (that’s not yourself). For instance, a fry chef at the Krusty Krab, a bouncer at a nightclub, waitress at a restaurant, etc.

This is "And Now Just Listen" featuring Avery, Nick, Justin and Lewes. We talk about games, tech, movies, and get sidetracked a lot. Interested in contributing? Email inquiries to andnowjustlisten@gmail.com.